From Rescue Mutt to Top Dog

Roxy "flunked" five home placements before Jac Greenlee saw something in her eyes that made him take a chance: "Intelligence." She now competes with the top disc dogs in the world! Read about her amazing transformation, and watch our exclusive video of this former rescue dog excelling in her sport

She was picked up on the street in December 2007. Gaunt, filthy, confused, and defeated, Mama Claus and her nine puppies were cornered and captured easily by employees of Murray County Animal Control in Chatsworth, GA. A starving mother dog and a week-old litter are at extremely high risk in most animal-control units; few public shelters have the room or staff to nurture big, needy animal families for more than a few days before putting them down. But a staff person made a phone call, after which Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Rudolph, and Mama Claus were on the road to rural Kennesaw, GA,to the kennels of Mostly Mutts Animal Rescue and Adoptions, Inc.

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"She was shaking so hard she could hardly get down from the van," says Paige O'Neill, 52, the founding director of Mostly Mutts. Suntanned, with short-cropped blond hair pinned by sunglasses on top of her head, O'Neill is also a private tennis instructor and former college coach. "She was frantic when we got near her puppies. After we cleaned her up and brushed her out, she looked like an extremely underweight Australian shepherd mix. We reached out to our foster families with her information."

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Shelly and Jeff Porter of Powder Springs, GA, and their three children had become Mostly Mutts (MM) volunteers about a year earlier, and they opened their home to the entire Mama Claus family. "Mama was so excited whenever I or my 18-year-old daughter, Jessica, went down to the basement rec room to visit her," says Shelly. "With her ears laid back in a submissive way, she nudged our hands to make us pet her. It was like she was saying, 'Please love me. I just want to be loved.' "

With Shelly's husband and sons Cody and Dylan, who were then 14 and 12, it was a different story. "Mama Claus was terrified of them," Shelly says. "They talked softly to her, but she ducked away. If she felt like she couldn't escape, she lowered her head and tail and waited for something bad to happen, or just collapsed on the ground. It was heartbreaking. Obviously, she'd been treated badly.

"We'd sit on the floor with her," says Shelly, "and Jeff, Cody, or Dylan would also sit — not too close — holding out a yummy treat." But the dog could not relax in their presence; whenever they appeared, she watched them anxiously, vigilantly. Then one day, less than a week into her stay, Mama's curiosity about the treat in Jeff's hands — or perhaps her desire to finally make friends with the rest of the family — overcame her trepidation. Cautiously, step by step — and once or twice startling backward — she got close enough to nibble the treat from his fingers. "Mama decided to give the guys a chance," says Shelly. "It was a beautiful moment."

Prancer, Blitzen, Rudolph, etc., grew into handsome pups and within weeks were welcomed into permanent homes. Though the Porters adored Mama Claus, they preferred to foster puppies; it was time for Mama — now bright-eyed and no longer afraid of men — to return to Mostly Mutts and for the Porters to prepare for their next placement.

A second family, fond of Australian shepherds, agreed to foster Mama while MM searched for a permanent "adoptive" family. Within a month, O'Neill received a desperate call: "Yeah, she's a purebred Aussie, but she's a nutcase! She chewed through our back door. We can't control her. Sorry, but we're bringing her back."

Since Mostly Mutts was founded to reduce the numbers of adoptable animals euthanized at local shelters, foster and adoptive families are asked to contact MM and return any dog or cat whose placement doesn't seem to be working out. The last thing anyone wants is for an animal to be abandoned or left at a public shelter again.

"Why, hello there, Mama," said O'Neill when the dog hopped down from the van and wagged her stubby tail in greeting. "Don't worry. We'll try again."

A third foster family, more experienced with the mighty work ethic and relentless drive of Australian shepherds, stepped up. After two weeks, they gave her back: "She's hyperactive, absolutely impossible, and teaching our other dogs bad habits."

A fourth family offered Mama a home, this time promising it would be permanent. They lasted one week: "She jumps over the fence! We can't even contain her."

By then, Mama Claus's fur was thick and glossy, black on top and brown along her flanks and face. She was pretty, with big, soft eyes. A fifth family couldn't resist her beauty and adopted her. After four days, they phoned O'Neill to report, "She's destroying everything we own."

"You again?" sighed O'Neill when they returned her.

Was the dog unadoptable? This posed a real problem for O'Neill, since animal shelters in six counties were asking her to come rescue dogs and save their lives, and Mama was taking up valuable room.

Across America within the past decade, an all-volunteer "animal rescue" movement has arisen. Spurred to action by the thousands of animals in jeopardy during Hurricane Katrina, organizers give abandoned, abused, neglected, or feral cats and dogs (as well as the occasional guinea pig, ferret, house rabbit, or goat) second chances to find loving homes.

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Rescuing Animals Made a Life Passion

One hundred and sixty-five million doted-upon dogs and cats live in American homes, but there is a shadow population of 6 to 8 million "surplus" animals caged in public shelters every year. They've been picked up as strays; removed from owners in cruelty cases; confiscated from puppy mills, hoarders, or dog-fighters; or surrendered by owners who, for example, want their kids to "experience the miracle of birth" and who then drop off entire litters of puppies or kittens in cardboard boxes.

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Roughly half of animals in shelters are reclaimed or adopted. The rest, 3.4 million animals, are euthanized every year — most by lethal injection — potentially adoptable pets alongside medically or behaviorally unadoptable animals. In a pet-loving country like ours, it's a shocking statistic. "I didn't see it for many years," says O'Neill. "I wasn't aware."

A transplanted Virginian who was certified as a vet technician, O'Neill moved to Atlanta in 1982 for a veterinary-clinic job and launched her tennis-coaching career as well. "If I'd ever once visited a shelter, I would have been transformed. But I hadn't, so I thought, If you want a dog, you buy one from a breeder," she says. Like most people, O'Neill assumed the published "breed standard" would tell her all she needed to know about a dog, and that a shelter dog who'd been neglected in puppyhood would not make a good pet.

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There are elements of truth in this: Breed guidelines do include helpful generalities (it's why you don't bring a border collie home to a small apartment or ask a beagle to herd sheep), and a loving, stimulating infancy is nearly as important for dogs as it is for humans, which is why ethical, hands-on, small-scale breeders produce bright, affectionate pups.

O'Neill was not alone in overlooking shelter animals. "Fewer than 30 percent of American pets come from rescues and shelters," says Inga Fricke, director of sheltering and pet care issues at the Humane Society of the United States. "People have a misconception that shelters are sad places and the dogs and cats there are defective in some way."

O'Neill's reeducation began when a chow puppy, hit by a car, was abandoned at her clinic. "If you want to take him on, I'll do the surgery," the vet offered, and O'Neill accepted. After extensive rehab, Kong became her loving sidekick. Then, one summer night while teaching tennis, O'Neill noticed an old shih tzu hanging around outside the fence, as if waiting for her. After the last lesson, she called the dog over: "She had no collar or tag, and no one responded when I put up signs. She walked in circles, so I named her Dizzy." Dizzy lived to be 13, and Kong, 14.

By then, O'Neill knew that she wouldn't be purchasing any more dogs. Visiting the Atlanta Humane Society one day, she happened upon a meeting for volunteers interested in rescue. Millions of homeless cats and dogs, she learned — like Kong and Dizzy and her newest family member, Sophie, an American bulldog mix adopted from a shelter — were dying. "Suddenly, at 40, I found my passion," O'Neill says.

She signed up to foster, nurture, and train dogs rescued from public shelters. Soon after, the Atlanta Humane Society offered O'Neill its directorship. She accepted a steep cut in pay and 12-hour workdays; inherited crumbling buildings and an outbreak of distemper — and had never felt more fulfilled. Two years later, in 2004, she left to create the volunteer-staffed nonprofit Mostly Mutts. "Someone asked me at the beginning what we intended to save — like, would we focus on certain pedigrees?" says O'Neill. "I said, 'Mostly mutts, I guess.' To me, a 'mutt' is an adorable dog that would make a wonderful pet, and who cares what it is? Of course, we place pedigrees, too, because a lot of them have lost their first homes." It's estimated that as many as 25 percent of shelter dogs are purebreds.

Since 2004, Mostly Mutts has rescued more than 3,000 animals (mostly dogs), many on the very day — some within the hour — they were scheduled for lethal injection. Animal shelters across Georgia reach out to MM and groups like it. "I'm a pushover," says O'Neill. "They know I'll take the old-timers, the sick ones, and the mangy ones. I probably should have named our group 'Mostly Mangy Mutts.' "

To lower the threshold for adoptive families, some rescue groups underwrite veterinary visits and medications or offer low-cost or free training classes. When available animals are displayed for adoption — online, and at local adoption events — the groups often provide assessments. This active dog needs a playful family and a fenced-in yard, an accompanying caption might read. These two cats are a bonded pair — they must be adopted together.... The more honest the appraisal, the likelier it is that the right family will step forward and the match will succeed.

Some dogs are easier to place than others, of course. Little? Fluffy? Cute and young? Done! Older, not house-trained, unpredictable around other dogs, or hyperactive, like Mama Claus? Harder. Most dogs with poor behaviors can be brought back from the brink, but real commitment is required, says O'Neill. She feels disappointed sometimes when a dog comes back to her; sometimes she wishes people had tried a little harder, given the dog a little longer to come around.

About 100 dogs have been returned to Mostly Mutts — including, in early 2008, for that fifth time, Mama Claus. While returning her, the adoptive family showed O'Neill a $415 vet bill for treatment of diarrhea, vomiting, and colitis. "Mama was very stressed," says O'Neill.

In mid-February 2008, Jac Greenlee, 58, a Kennesaw, GA, businessman, studied Mama Claus's photo online at mostlymutts.org. He and his wife had lost a beloved dog to illness a year before. He phoned O'Neill: "I see something in her eyes."

"Oh, yeah? What is it?"

"Intelligence."

Greenlee showed up at an MM weekend adoption event, and O'Neill gave him the whole story: rejected from three foster homes and two adoptive homes, stressed, maybe unadoptable. Greenlee left to think it over. He returned the next day and asked, "Can I walk her around?"

"Please."

He sensed Mama Claus's eagerness to learn and obey. He tried teaching her the "Sit" command, and she mastered it in just a few minutes. "I want her," he said.

"Dude! That's a disc dog!" said the counter guy at the local pet supply when Greenlee stepped in with Mama Claus, whom he'd just renamed Roxy.

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"What's a disc dog?" he asked.

"A Frisbee-catching dog. It's a sport, man. Look it up."

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Becoming a Disc Dog

Greenlee went online and learned that while dog owners had long enjoyed tossing Frisbees to their dogs, something special had happened on August 5, 1974: During a break in a baseball game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Cincinnati Reds, Alex Stein, a 23-year-old Hollywood hopeful, jumped out of the stands in Dodger Stadium with his whippet, Ashley Whippet. As security officers monitored him, Stein zigzagged around the field and flung discs into the air. Ashley Whippet zoomed to catch them, interspersing 35-mph speeds with nine-foot-high leaps. The crowd went wild. The sports announcer began narrating the dog's performance through the loudspeakers. After eight minutes, Stein was detained, but the sport was launched. Today there are four different international organizations, and hundreds of dogs from 14 countries compete for honors.

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At home with Jac and Trish Greenlee, Mama Claus/Roxy settled in nicely. "You could see the relief in her eyes, that she had a home," says Greenlee. "I learned her moods quickly. When she's happy, she's a 'wiggle butt' — a common term in the world of Aussies. When she feels unsure about a stranger, she lowers her head and flattens her ears and watches the person very, very closely, reading every bit of voice inflection and body language. I read up on Aussies and learned I had to keep her mentally and physically busy, so — following the pet-supply-store guy's advice — I bought a Frisbee for us to enjoy."

In the backyard, Greenlee showed Roxy the disc and tossed it gently. She couldn't have cared less. He tried again. Boring. Just wondering if she had it in her to catch it, and enjoying the outdoor time with her, he didn't give up. Every day after work, he led Roxy into the backyard and threw the Frisbee for her. Yawn.

"Once I got on my hands and knees in front of her," Greenlee says, "and held the Frisbee between my teeth and crawled around with it, to show her what to do. Roxy had a look like, You're kidding me, right? My neighbor looked over the fence at Roxy and yelled: 'Whoa, that needs a lot of work!' " But then one day, Roxy picked up the Frisbee, walked over to Greenlee, and dropped it at his feet. He praised her exuberantly and ruffled her fur. He tossed the disc, and she caught it. It was easy for her, and it made him happy.

Greenlee watched disc-dog meets on YouTube to learn the required skills and took Roxy to nearby parks to let her run, leap, and catch. It was Greenlee's favorite time of day — maybe Roxy's, too. A month or two passed, and he learned that the U.S. Disc Dog Nationals (USDDN) was holding world finals in Georgia, and there was a novice event. As a lark, he enrolled Roxy. Trish rode along to cheer for her team from the sidelines. Roxy won Toss & Fetch, Novice class.

At that same meet, the Greenlees watched the Freestyle competitions, in which human-and-dog pairs performed two-minute acrobatic disc routines set to music. Dogs somersaulted off their owners' chests, darted in and out between their legs, rolled and flew, caught and returned. Both Greenlees had the same thought: Roxy could do that.

The following year, Greenlee and Roxy entered USDDN Freestyle, Division II, and Roxy won, becoming the American champion. In 2010, she took second in the U.S. and fourth in international competition. "We're working now toward making her a world champion," Greenlee says. "She always places in the top five qualifiers, and usually in the top three. So far this year, she's qualified in two world finals. I think she's one of the top disc dogs in the world."

More important, he says, "Roxy changed my life. I used to be a driven workaholic. Now, every day after work, I take her to a park to train. If I'm stressed out, she won't work with me. She goes into a 'Down' position and waits. It's like she's telling me, 'Dude, release the attitude.' She knows how much fun we'll have when I give her 100 percent of my attention. I start throwing and feel the tension leave my body with every disc. When Roxy sees that I'm totally there with her, she gets up and we go to work.

"By the way, the majority of disc dogs are shelter dogs and rescues."

Not every rescued dog will become a champion like Mama Claus/Roxy. But every rescued animal has the potential to become someone's most ardent friend. Recently the Greenlees and Roxy paid a visit to the Porter family. "Did she remember us?" says Shelly Porter. "I'm not sure. We only had her a few weeks, and they might not have been weeks she wants to remember. She was very friendly and greeted us individually. Jac thanked our kids for the effort they'd put into Mama Claus, and he invited them to come cheer for Roxy as the Greenlees' special guests at her next national competition. Then Jac and Roxy put on a Frisbee show for us in the backyard. It was something. The bond between Jac and Roxy is incredible. He loves that dog so much. But what really struck us was seeing how much Roxy adores him. No matter where she was, she knew exactly where Jac was at all times. It filled our hearts to see her so completely happy and in love."